


The New Santa

by ljunattainable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #Spnxmas, AU, Cop!Dean, Cop!Donna, Elf Castiel, Gen, Santa dies, Twitter Challenge, mention of Kevin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/ljunattainable
Summary: Dean's there when Santa dies, only he doesn't realise it at the time.





	The New Santa

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #spnxmas @AVerySPNXMas (SPN Secret Santa) on Twitter, 2017. Gifted to @Eaprilbeauty.

It doesn’t look too promising for the old guy in the Santa suit when Dean and Donna get there. He’s lying face up in the snow with a loose crowd milling uncomfortably around him, while two people crouch by his side not doing anything much useful as far as Dean can see. 

As their car pulls up, lights on, but no siren, the crowd looks collectively relieved at the arrival of some sort of authority.

“He just keeled over,” one of the kneeling men says to Dean as he jumps out of the car.

Heart attack probably. The guy looks old that’s for sure. Why’s it have to happen at Christmas. Some family’s holiday ruined because Grandpa passed. 

“I’ll call it in,” Donna says through Dean’s open car door. Dean gives her a wave of acknowledgement and he kneels down at the man’s side. He’s still alive, but only just. His gaze is a little hazy, but he’s looking around at the crowd and then his eyes settle on Dean, and he actually smiles.

“Hey, Santa,” Dean says, feeling around the man for signs of injury from his fall.

The usual Santas they get around this district are homeless guys looking to make a buck and Dean doesn’t begrudge them that as long as they don’t mug someone for said buck. This Santa is a long way from those guys. He’s wearing a smart up-market thick and warm Santa suit. It looks like wool. He’s clean, doesn’t smell much, and has this huge snowy-white beard. Dean tugs at it so he can see the guys face, before he realises it’s real. That right there is months of dedication to the Christmas cause. Dean wonders if he’s working at one of the posh stores in the mall. The old man reaches a hand out to Dean and Dean takes it. PDA’s not usually his thing but if Santa here needs someone to hold on to then he’s going to get someone to hold on to.

“You here with anyone, Sir? You looked as if you might be looking for someone.”

“No,” The old man whispers so low Dean has to duck to hear. 

“What’s your name, Sir?”

“Santa Claus,” The man whispers with an attempt at a chuckle. Dean’s not going to push it. 

“Okay, Santa, if you say so. Now listen up. There’s an ambulance coming. They’re gonna take you to the hospital and you’re gonna be just fine. All fixed up in time to deliver all those presents to all those kids, okay?”

“You’re a good man, Dean Winchester.”

Dean startles. “How do you know …?”

“I know everyone.” Santa grips Dean’s hand harder. Dean tries to pull away but he can’t. Santa stares straight at Dean, and Dean’s sees a glow in Santa’s eyes, a bright light behind his pupils. Dean knows it must be a reflection off the streetlights or car headlights in the near-dark of mid-winter late afternoon, but it doesn’t look like that and Dean can’t look away.

“Dean, the ambulance got delayed but they’re five minutes out now,” Donna calls. “How’s our Santa?”

The light fades from the old man’s eyes as quickly as it appeared, and it’s clear to Dean that the light took Santa with it. 

“Tell the ambulance there’s no hurry.” 

Dean closes Santa’s eyes. The crowd mutters pseudo-sympathy for someone they didn’t know. Some disperse but some hang around with morbid curiosity. 

Dean stands up and wobbles a bit. He feels odd. Lightheaded. 

Donna grabs his arm and steadies him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He mentally shakes himself. “Stood up too fast, is all.”

“You’ve got something in your eye … oh, no, it’s gone. Must have been a reflection or something.”

~~~~

“Hey, Sam.” Dean mutes the TV, shoves the French fry in his hand all the way into his mouth, puts the phone on his tray, and turns the speaker on. 

“Hey, Dean. Do you know what time you’re going to get here on Saturday? It’s just Eileen’s got a thing Saturday morning and I’ve been invited.”

“Say no more. I can get there after lunch if you like.” 

And anyway, Dean’s got a feeling that there’s something he needs to do, so getting there a little late will let him do whatever it is when he remembers whatever it is.

“Um, no actually…”

“You want me to get there so that you don’t have to go to Eileen’s thing.”

“Um…yeah.” Sam says, with a laugh.

Dean chuckles. “What about Kevin? Won’t he be able to help you out?”

“He’s meeting some university friend out of town for lunch so he won’t be here until late afternoon.”

“What kind of friend is he?” Dean jokes.

“The kind that has a lot of university friends to catch up with at Christmas, apparently,” Sam says, with an edge of exasperation.

“Thank God we’ve only got each other,” Dean says. “Where is Mom this year, by the way?”

“I have no idea but she posted a selfie on Facebook and it’s just desert and storms and strange spiky obelisks. It looks horrendous; like some apocalyptic world in an alternative universe. So, can I count on you being here early?”

“Sure. I’ve got … something … to do first,” Dean says uncertainly. It’ll come to him he’s sure because he’s sure it’s important. “But I should be there by ten. Maybe eleven. I’m not sure how long this thing is going to take.”

“Dude, thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll see you Saturday.”

It’s Wednesday evening now. Dean’s got a whole two days to work out whatever the super-urgent thing is that he has to do.

~~~~

Dean has the weirdest dream. His house is full of elves. Little men and women in bright green and red suits and little pointed hats. They wander in and out of his rooms and climb on his furniture and tut a lot when they look in his wardrobe and pull out all his clothes. They climb on his bed and sit on his chest and stare at his face, with their heads tilting one way, then the other. Dean can’t move. He’s frozen in place, flat on his back, and all he can do is swivel his head to watch all the shenanigans, and stare back at whichever elf is currently sizing him up. He doesn’t feel anxious or worried. The little people aren’t intimidating. 

Then the elves all disappear and Dean can move again. 

Then he wakes up.

~~~~

“You look like death warmed up,” Donna observes, eyeing Dean over the top of her computer monitor.

“Nothing coffee and a doughnut won’t cure,” Dean says, grabbing a pink-iced monstrosity from the box on the table. He takes a gulp of his coffee. The weird dream’s left him feeling … well, weird, if he’s honest, and he still can’t remember what the super-urgent thing he’s got to do is. “What’ve we got?”

“Nothing on the dead Santa. Still waiting on ID. Got a possible lead on Santa-robber on 5th, and a Santa mugging victim to interview. Jo and Ash got nothing out of the vic last night so we get to go talk to him today.”

Ah, those are the evil, criminal Santas Dean knows and loves so well. He’s a lot more comfortable with them than the strange old guy in the street with the glowy eyes.

~~~~

The morning’s a bust. The lead on the robber turns out to be kids playing a prank on a disliked teacher, and they catch up with the mugging vic in the hospital but the guy’s a wreck and can’t tell them anything other than he was mugged by Santa. Considering the city’s full of Santas right now, that’s not very helpful.

On top of that, Dean keeps seeing elves. Peering out of a door, behind a box or crate or truck. On a roof one time. He’s sure he’s imagining it. Obviously, he’s imagining it, but it’s freaking him out. Donna’s giving him strange looks and takes him to his favorite food truck for lunch, and she even pays for it, that’s how bad he must look.

“Well, what gives?” She asks, mumbling around a mouthful of black bean burrito with extra Jalapenos. Dean really hopes they don’t have to spend too much time in the car this afternoon. 

Dean shakes his head. “I dunno. I guess the guy from yesterday bothered me more than usual.” He shrugs. Donna tries to stare him down, but Dean’s really good at this and she gives up.

“It happens that way sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

Something moves under the table and Dean’s not going to look and see if it’s an elf. He’s not.

“He didn’t look homeless. We’ll find his family. It’ll be tough for them, but they’ll get him back.”

“Yeah.” 

Dean looks. He can’t help himself. The elf winks at him and disappears. 

~~~~

For the second night running, Dean’s dreams are filled with elves. 

They tell him they’re taking him to a workshop, and they’ve brought him the most garish pair of work dungarees Dean’s ever seen, made of red and green wool felt with bright yellow buttons. There’s no way he’s wearing that.

Under the intent gaze of roughly twenty pairs of deeply suspicious eyes, he rummages in a box at the back of his wardrobe and pulls out the grubby dark green coverall he uses to work on the car. He thought he’d washed it after the last time he used it but judging by the oil stains, maybe not. Even so, it’s better than the horror outfit the elves are trying to get him to wear.

The elves argue amongst themselves but eventually it whittles down to this one particularly pedantic elf persuading the others that it doesn’t matter what Dean wears the important thing is to get him to the workshop.

“I’m Castiel,” says the elf doing all the talking.

Dean doesn’t know why it’s important he goes to the workshop but Cas insists. 

~~~~

Donna doesn’t say anything when Dean shuffles in. 

He’s so tired he might as well have spent all night at Santa’s actual workshop instead of just dreaming he did. Cas showed him around the part of the workshop where they made toy cars, explaining that the workshop went on for miles, and Dean would have plenty of time to see the rest of it after this holiday season is over.

“What?” Dean snaps.

Donna shakes her head and turns back to her screen.

“Sorry,” Dean says. He sits down and sips at his coffee. 

“No problem. You going to Sam’s tonight or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. Probably.” Although if he’s right he won’t get there at all if he does the thing he suspects he’s supposed to do even though he doesn’t really believe any of this is happening. “Any news on our dead Santa?”

“Fingerprints turned up nada. Autopsy shows natural causes, just old age. Because there’s no crime they’re going to put him in the freezer until the new year. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” And it is. It should suck that the poor old guy is going to sit in the freezer for two weeks, but the old guy won’t care, and Dean’s starting to suspect his family already know. He looks under his desk and Cas smiles sadly, nodding.

“Santa,” he whispers.

~~~~

“Aw, guys, come on, do I have to wear the red suit?”

“It’s traditional,” Cas says, walking around him, making sure everything fits. 

“So’s the beard and I don’t have a beard. Or the long hair – it’s my brother Sam you want for that.”

“Elendorr will see to the beard and hair until you grow your own.”

“Oh, no way.” Dean turns and stares at Cas. “I’m not growing the beard and hair. The police force wouldn’t stand for it.”

Cas sighs heavily. Dean’s starting to find out that Cas is really good at the heavy sigh.

“Fine.” Cas tugs at the hem of Dean’s jacket to straighten it out. “You look good.” 

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look fine. Now would you like to meet your reindeer?”

“Sure. As if this could get any more surreal. But first I’ve got to call my brother.”

“Hey, Sam.” Dean says when Sam picks up. “I’m really sorry, dude, but I’m not going to be able to make it this weekend.”

“Oh. That sucks. But I get it. Work stuff?”

“Not really, but I’ve got something I need to do urgently before Christmas.”

“Can’t it wait?”

Dean grins. “No, not really. But I’ll come see you for New Year. Oh, and Sam - leave out some cookies and the really good whisky for Santa will you?”


End file.
